


Hysteria

by DarylsBabyGirl



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Drama, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romance, Tumblr Prompt, asshole Walkers, crappy old cars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 05:15:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11752803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarylsBabyGirl/pseuds/DarylsBabyGirl
Summary: Daryl's been in love with Jesus since practically the beginning, but he doesn't have the courage to tell the Hilltop scout his feelings. Will he be able to before it's too late?





	Hysteria

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt given to me by an anonymous person on Tumblr. It turned out longer than I expected, but I hope you enjoy it! I thought about adding a sex scene, but the ending seemed so beautiful and perfect, I didn't want to ruin it!

It had started out with lingering stares. Daryl found himself unable to stop glancing at Jesus when the other man was talking to him, or staring at him when the other man wasn't looking. For someone who seemed so compact and lean, Daryl knew Jesus was actually quite strong. He didn't know where Jesus got his strength from. Jesus calls it martial arts and Tai Chi. Daryl calls it bullshit. Nonetheless, the man certainly knew how to draw the hunter to him with his warm smile and soft voice.

During the war against Negan, he started calling Jesus by his true name, Paul Rovia. When he'd first said it, Paul had been startled and looked at him strangely, almost like he'd forgotten that's what his true name was. He hadn't said anything about it, however; but, Daryl had spotted a shy smile when the man turned away. So, he continued to call the man by his name. No one else seemed to do it, so to Daryl it was special. It sent his heart racing anytime Paul smiled at him when he called out to him. 

After the war with Negan, everyone returned to their respective communities. Daryl returned to Alexandria with Rick and Michonne. Paul went to Hilltop with Maggie and Rosita. Daryl felt Paul's absence greatly. When Paul was around, he felt lighter and, dare he say it, happy. It was a strange thing to feel, happiness. He'd never felt it in his life. Now it had gone with Paul. Without Paul around, Daryl went back to being a grouchy, silent hunter. 

Rick definitely seemed to notice the change. He thought maybe Daryl was just getting restless again. Things were peaceful now that Negan was dead. He'd hoped maybe Daryl would finally be able to relax, but that didn't seem like it was going to happen. The Alexandrian leader approached the grouchy hunter with a plan. Daryl had his own house at the end of the street. It was older than the other houses, only one story, but it had been renovated just before the Turn. He jotted up the steps to Daryl's door and reached his hand up to knock. 

“Rick...”

Rick started and looked over to the swing at the corner of the porch. “Daryl... you okay?” He lowered his hand and walked up to the hunter. 

Daryl shrugged, one foot up on the rail, using it to push himself back and forth slowly. In his hand he had a hair band, one Rick recognized as Jesus'. “Did ya need somethin?”

Rick stared at the hair band. “Uh... yeah...” He looked up at his brother's face, noting the slight hint of emotion. “We need more winter clothes and blankets... I was going to see if you wanted to go to Hilltop, get a list from Maggie, maybe take Jesus with you on a run.”

Daryl's eyes snapped up to Rick's at the name. “... Yeah, sure...” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Rick stared down at him. “Daryl... are you sure you're alright?”

“... 'm fine... why ya keep askin that?” Daryl's eyes narrowed a bit.

“You seemed so happy and relaxed during the war... strangely enough... then after everythang settled down, you just... reverted back.” Rick paused, his eyes once again flicking down to the hair band. “... Do you... miss... Jesus?”

Daryl flushed and lowered his head, his hair covering his eyes. “... Nah...”

“Daryl... it's alright to admit it. There's no reason to feel shame.” Rick stepped closer and leaned against the railing by Daryl's foot. 

Daryl grunted, slipping the hair band around his wrist. “... I think... 'm in love with 'im.” 

Rick grinned brightly. “Really? Daryl, that's amazing. Are you gonna tell him?”

The hunter shrugged. “I dunno if he feels the same...”

“Daryl, he flirts with you constantly. I think it's pretty safe to say he feels the same. You should try hinting at it.” Rick stood off the railing. “I've got a full tank in the Buick-”

“That Buick's a piece 'a shit.” Daryl grumbled. 

Rick chuckled and patted Daryl's shoulder. “Head out to Hilltop when you're ready.” He turned and walked back down the steps to return to his own house. 

Daryl watched him go and sit there for a moment longer. With a heave, he stood off the swing and walked into his house to grab his crossbow and back pack. With the items in hand, he walked to the door. Something caught his eye and he stopped to look at it. On the stand next to the door was one of Paul's beanies. After a split second, Daryl grabbed it and shoved it in his back pocket. He walked out of his house, shutting the door and heading down the street to the gate where the Buick was waiting. 

 

It didn't take Daryl long to reach Hilltop. He wasn't exactly a safe driver now that there were no laws on the streets. He pulled close to the gate, then turned it around so they could just drive off. The gate opened for him and he walked through, looking around for long brown hair and a loose, white cotton shirt. He didn't see the man, so he walked up to Barrington house and reached out to open the door, but it swung open instead. 

“Daryl!” Jesus just barely managed to stop himself from headbutting Daryl's chest. “What're you doing here? Is everything okay?”

Daryl stepped back a bit, biting his bottom lip. “Yeah... everythang's fine... Rick was wanting us to go on a run fer some winter stuff... told me ta get a list from Maggie.”

“Oh! Well, she's taking a nap... but I know what we need. Let me get my stuff and we can head out.” He stepped out of the house and shut the door. He passed Daryl, hurrying down the steps. 

“S'a bit late now, ain't it? Why not wait til' mornin..? That way we're not rushin.” Daryl followed after him, the weight of the beanie in his back pocket reminding him of what Rick said.

Paul stopped by the steps to his trailer and turned to Daryl. “Good point.” He smiled. “Gonna stay with me for the night? I feel I should remind you I only have a twin bed.” Daryl blushed when Paul winked and the hunter looked down. Jesus smiled more, leaning down to gaze at Daryl's hidden eyes. “I'm just messing with you, Daryl. Are you hungry? I think I have stew left from lunch.” When the hunter nodded, Jesus turned and walked up the steps to the trailer. 

Daryl followed him inside, shutting the door to keep the chill of the November air out. He set his crossbow down by the door and stood to watch Paul putter about the kitchen, heating up stew for them both. When Paul set the bowls on the table, he motioned for Daryl to sit.

“You don't have to stand by the door, Daryl. You know you're welcome in here. You welcomed me into your home multiple times.” Paul smiled and sat down. 

Daryl swallowed thickly. He reached to his back pocket and pulled out the beanie. He tossed it onto the table as he sat down. Paul looked at it, then smiled brightly and picked it up. “Ya left it at my place.”

“Did you ever think I'm ever so slowly moving in with you, one article of clothing at a time?” Paul chuckled as he set the beanie back down. “Thank you, Daryl.. I'll definitely need it tomorrow.”

Daryl nodded. Silence reigned over them while they ate. Paul kept glancing up at Daryl from his bowl, seeming to studying the other man. Daryl would return the glances, licking his lips and admiring the way Paul's hair fell on his shoulders. Paul smiled a bit. 

“Geeze, Daryl, do you ever stop talking?” 

Daryl looked up at him, eyebrow raised. “Ain't said a word...”

The scout let out a chuckle and leaned back in his chair, pushing his finished bowl away. “I'm teasing you, Daryl.”

The hunter looked down, swallowing his last bite. “Asshole...” 

Though, Paul spotted a tiny upturn of Daryl's lips. He looked away. Daryl was too damn attractive when he smiled like that. Paul knew, however, Daryl would never feel the same. He's resigned himself to the fact that he will die alone. He smiled. That didn't mean he couldn't admire the grumpy hunter from afar, however. He'll flirt and tease the man until his dying days or until Daryl told him to stop.

Daryl finished eating and helped Paul clean up. It wasn't too late, so Paul settled himself on the bed with a book while Daryl sat on the steps outside to smoke a cigarette. He let the lit cigarette hang limp between his lips while he fiddled with the hair tie around his wrist. He sat there for quite a while, puffing lightly on the cigarette, lost in his thoughts and fantasies. He didn't hear Paul come up behind him. 

Paul, tired and ready for sleep, approached the silent hunter to ask him to finish up. He stopped, noting the black tie around Daryl's wrist. He'd never seen the hunter wear his hair up, or wear anything around his wrist. He opened his mouth to ask what the hunter was doing when he recognized the tiny dreamcatcher charm on it. Paul didn't normally wear hair ties with charms on them, but in the world they lived in, beggers can't be choosers. What was Daryl doing with his hair tie? Had he left it at the hunter's house along with the beanie? If so, why hadn't he given it back like he did the beanie? 

Daryl reached up to take the cigarette from his lips and put it out. He stood up and stretched before turning and making his way inside. Paul was still on the bed and looked up from the book when he entered. 

“Ready to sleep?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah... gotta be up early fer the mission.”

Paul set the book aside after marking his spot with a picture and set it on the table by his bed. Daryl put out the light and kicked his boots off before laying on the couch. He heard the scout moving around and finally settle down.

“Good night, Daryl...” He whispered quietly. 

“.... Night, Paul.”

 

The next morning, Daryl woke just before the sun rose. He got up and went into Paul's bathroom to wash up a bit before going outside to smoke a cigarette. He could hear Paul rousing and stretching with soft little moans. The hunter blushed a bit at the sounds, wishing he could hear them in a different context. He soon felt the scout coming up behind him. He turned his head to look over his shoulder and fought down a smile at the sleepy look and bed hair the scout had. 

“Morning, Daryl...”

“.... Mornin...” The hunter whispered shyly, though he tried hiding it with a glare. 

Daryl always seemed so shy around Paul. It was very endearing and adorable. Paul couldn't help teasing him over it. He chuckled and rested his head against the door frame, staring down at the hunter. 

“Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the couch?”

Daryl scowled some. “Wouldn't wake up grouchy if someone didn't snore so damn loud 'n keep me up.”

Jesus let out a mock scandalized gasp. “I do not snore! I am an angel when I sleep.”

“Yeah, sure... tell that ta mah ear drums.” Daryl finished the cigarette and put it out. “Ya 'bout ready?”

Paul chuckled. “Yes, let me just go brush my teeth and hair.” He turned and walked to the bathroom. He shut the door and walked up to the sink. He could smell the faint hint of Daryl's deodorant. 

The man had never paid much attention to his hygiene during the war, not til after they started working together more often. Paul wondered why that was. Was the man embarrassed by how clean Paul was? With a shrug, Paul brushed his teeth and splashed water on his face. He ran a brush through his hair and left the bathroom. Daryl was waiting by the door, watching Paul intently while the man pulled his vest and trench coat on, knives hidden on his belt. The scout pulled the beanie on and grabbed up a list from the nightstand. 

“Alright! Shall we?” Paul walked up to Daryl with a smile. 

Daryl nodded and grabbed up his crossbow. “Rick's makin us take the Buick, so be prepared fer a rough ride.”

“I'm no stranger to rough rides, Daryl.” Paul said with a wink. He chuckled at the glare and blush he received in return for the flirt. He followed the hunter to the gates. With the sun just above the horizon, they were climbing into the Buick and driving off in the direction of a shopping center that had been spotted during the war.

It was indeed a rough ride. The Buick made loud squealing sounds if Daryl drove too fast. It jerked occasionally when it had problems switching gears. Paul didn't mind too much. He was just enjoying Daryl's presence. The hunter was still quiet, though he made a frustrated comment when the Buick acted up or when Paul was talking his ear off too much. 

“Almost prefer yer damn snorin over talkin.”

Paul had laughed at the insult. He wasn't offended, however. He knew the hunter was just messing with him. He'd noticed the hunter actually didn't mind Paul talking to him. Anyone else who wasn't close family, the hunter was quite aggressive when he told them to shut up. With Paul, however, he'd make sarcastic comments or actually debate with the scout on some matter. Jesus was happy to know Daryl considered him close family. 

They arrived at the shopping center a few hours later. There was a few walkers around, but they were taken care of efficiently. Alone in the store, they worked together to gather clothes, blankets, formula and anything else they deemed a necessity. It took them until early evening before they managed to get everything in boxes or bags and loaded into the Buick. With a finalized shut of the trunk, Paul heaved a sigh. 

“Done! Shall we head back?” He turned to Daryl and froze. 

The hunter looked at him. “What?”

“Daryl...”

Daryl turned to see what Paul was pointing at and tensed at the herd of walkers crossing the parking lot from the treeline. “Shit! Get in!” He shoved Paul toward the passenger's side and rushed to the driver's side. He tossed his crossbow into the back and got behind the wheel. 

Paul got into the passenger's side and shut the door. He turned to Daryl and watched the hunter fumble with the keys before shoving them into the ignition and turn. The car made a screeching sound, but wouldn't start. “Daryl! Hurry!” 

“Shut up!” Daryl snapped, once again turning the key. The car screeched again, then finally started. The walkers were nearly upon them by the time Daryl got the car into drive and, with a jerk, the Buick was zooming away from the herd. 

Neither of them relaxed until they were far down the road from the herd. Daryl's hands were nearly white on the steering wheel. Paul let out a soft sigh, relaxing back into the seat. He looked over at Daryl. 

“Hey.... we're fine...” He whispered as he reached over to gently pry Daryl's hand from the wheel. He expected Daryl to flinch or snap, but the hunter complied and released the wheel. Paul smiled and removed his hand, not wanting to over step any boundaries. He missed the look of disappointment that flashed across the hunter's face for a split second.

They were halfway home when the Buick let out a sputtering sound and rolled to a stop. It hissed and groaned before finally breaking down completely. 

“Sonuva bitch!” Daryl yelled, slamming his hand into the dash.

Paul winced and glanced around. They were surrounded by trees and boulders. “Daryl...”

The hunter shoved the door open and got out, growling and grumbling in anger. “Told Rick this car was a piece'a shit!”

Paul sighed and got out as well. “We may as well grab what we can carry and walk the rest of the way. We'll get another car and come back in the morning.”

Daryl grunted and opened the back door, yanking out his crossbow and back pack which he'd filled with formula for Judy and Maggie's baby. He slung the back pack over his shoulders and slammed the door shut with a furious grunt. Paul does the same, minus the grunt and slamming of the car door. Daryl hated leaving a car full of supplies in the middle of the road where anyone could find it, so he put the car into neutral and they pushed it closer to the treeline and grabbed some broken branches to try to camouflage it and make it look abandoned. 

With the car hidden, they made their way into the surrounding forest to walk back to Hilltop. They walked in silence, mostly because Paul enjoyed watching Daryl's back when he was in his natural element. He followed the hunter's foot steps, trying not to step on anything to make any noise. He got so lost in his thoughts, he rammed into Daryl's back. He latched onto the hunter's elbow to keep from falling back. 

“Dar-”

“Shut up...” Daryl hissed and knelt down. “Get down...”

Paul followed the hunter's order and knelt down by a tree. “What is it?”

“Walkers... they ain't noticed us, yet.” The hunter whispered back, motioning to the walkers ambling about a few feet away. “Let's keep it that way...”

Paul nodded and waited for the hunter to move before following him. They walked in silence for another few minutes. The walkers seemed to be following them without really chasing them. Paul kept an eye on them, and ended up tripping over a root sticking out of the ground. He let out a startled cry, putting his hands out to catch himself. The walkers all seemed to turn and look at them simultaneously.

“God dammit, Paul!” Daryl growled. He grabbed Paul's arm and yanked him up, and didn't release him. He took hold of Paul's hand as they started running. 

Walkers seemed to be around every tree and bush now. They dodged them left and right, hands clasped tight together. They pass a cluster of trees and come upon a three foot deep creek. A walker stumbles out from behind a tree and latches onto Paul. The scout's foot slips on a rock and he falls forward with a cry. His back hits the creek bed, the water surrounds his head, getting his hair and clothes wet. He feels a sharp pain in his neck and struggles to breathe and fight off the walker. 

“Paul-!” 

Daryl's heart stopped, fear gripping it as he stepped forward, reaching for the walker with his knife in hand, but another walker stumbles into him. He falls into another tree and shoves the walker away. He takes care of the walker with a knife to the head and shoves it to the ground. He rushes to the creek, slamming his blade into the back of the walker's head. With the walker dead, he pushes it to the side. The hunter grabs onto Paul's jacket and yanks him up out of the water. The scout coughs and shakes, hands reaching for Daryl's shirt. “Ya okay?”

Paul shook his head. “... It got me.”

Daryl stared down at him. “Where? How?! Ya wear so many layers!” The scout turned his head to the side, showing Daryl the bleeding mark on the side of his neck. Daryl's chest tightened. He felt his face flush as tears gathered in his eyes. “No... no no... Paul... m-maybe it's just a scrape. Don't look like a bite...”

Paul looked up at him. “It scratched me, Daryl... considering how dirty the walkers are, probably carrying so many diseases... it's going to get infected.”

“We got medicine! Ya ain't gonna die!”

“There's no medicine strong enough to fight off the walker infection.” Paul felt strangely calm at the thought of dying. There was nothing for him to live for anymore. He was tired, he's been so tired. “... It's okay, Daryl...” Paul whispered and stood up. He was cold, and he was okay with it. “We should get moving before more walkers come upon us.”

Daryl stood as well and watched Paul walk away. He gripped his knife tighter, staring down at the walker that had scratched Paul. He kicked it several times in anger, tears sliding down his cheeks, before yanking up his crossbow and trailing after the scout. Paul's words circled in his mind. He was talking like he was ready to die, but Daryl wasn't ready to lose him. He hadn't even had a chance to tell the scout how he felt. It felt like Beth all over again. He hadn't had a chance to tell her he loved her like a sister before she died; and, she'd been right. He missed her. 

It was dark by the time they reached Hilltop. It had taken longer to return by foot than it would've if they'd been driving. Paul's neck had stopped bleeding, but he was dizzy, so he went to Carson right away. Daryl didn't want to be around when Carson said there was nothing he could do, so he went straight to see Maggie to tell her about the car. 

Paul walked into the medical trailer and looked around for Carson. He found him at the table looking through some bottles. “Carson...”

The doctor looked up and smiled, then frowned. “Paul, I don't normally see you in here. Is everything alright?” He got up and walked over to the scout. “You look like your freezing.” He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around Paul's shoulders, spotting the blood. “Are you injured?”

“Yes... I need you... I need you to clean it and tell me if it's a scratch.”

Carson nodded and had Paul sit down. He grabbed a rag and some rubbing alcohol. He cleans the wound meticulously. “Well, Paul...”

 

Daryl stormed into Maggie's office and started pacing, tossing the crossbow down on a table. Maggie jumped from her spot at the desk and looked up. She relaxed, seeing the aggravated hunter. A furious Daryl was nothing new to her, so she merely went back to her paperwork.

“Daryl...” She said in way of greeting. “You're back late.” The hunter continued to pace, merely grunting at her. “Did something happen?” She looked up, brows furrowed with concern. 

“Paul got hurt...” The hunter finally stopped, staring down into the flames in the fireplace. 

“... Is he alright?” Maggie stood up. “Where is he?”

“Said he's gonna have Carson take a look at 'im...” He crossed his arms, bringing his thumb up to gnaw on the already short nail. 

“What happened?” 

Her hand touched his shoulder gently and he relaxed some. “... Damn Buick broke down half way here, so we started walkin, took only what we could carry. Damn walkers was all over the forest. We stopped at a creek 'n one took 'im down.” He choked up, thinking he should've been faster, should've been better... should've protected his precious, beautiful scout. “Another one came at me 'n I took it out. By the time I got ta Paul...” The hunter bit back a sob, leaning forward against the mantle above the fireplace, hands clenched into fists tightly. 

“Oh... Daryl...” Maggie teared up, stepping closer to offer silent comfort to the devastated hunter. “You... you're in love with him.”

The hunter let a sob escape. “... Ain't even told 'im... can't lose 'im... can't do this without 'im. He makes everythang so... bright... makes me so happy. … It hurts, Maggie.”

Maggie smiled some. “Daryl...” She stepped closer, hugging onto him tightly. “I'm happy you've found someone... and I'm sorry he got hurt. Hey...” She stepped back and turned Daryl to face her with a gentle hand on his cheek. “I'm sure he's fine... maybe a rock got him...”

Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat as she wiped his tears away. “A rock..?”

“You said he fell into the creek. I betcha he just got scraped by a rock.” She smiled. “You should go see him... and tell him how you feel. He's always goin on and on about you.”

Daryl shrugged and looked down shyly. “I-I dunno...”

She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Try, Daryl... he might surprise you.” She patted his cheek gently before returning to her desk and sitting down with a tired sigh. 

Daryl sat with her a while longer, playing with baby Rhee. When the baby fell asleep, he left Maggie to her work and walked out of Barrington house. It was late, everyone was in their trailers either asleep or preparing for the next day. With a nervous breath, he walked down the steps and crossed the field toward Paul's trailer. The scout was already inside, a bandage over the wound on his neck. He'd discarded his wet clothing and was left in just jeans and a plain t-shirt. He was fresh from a shower, so his wet hair was up in a bun, and he'd never looked more beautiful to Daryl. 

The scout looked up from whatever he was cooking and smiled. “Daryl, there you are.”

Daryl stood nervously by the door, setting his crossbow down. “... What'd he say?”

Paul smiled, filling two bowls with some soup. “... It's not a bite, or a scratch. He thinks I may have brushed up against a sharp rock. I did hit my head, though... which explains the dizziness.”

Daryl couldn't help but sigh with relief. His beautiful scout wasn't going to die. 

“He gave me some antibiotics just in case and told me to keep the wound clean.” Jesus turned to the table, setting the bowls down. “I'm sorry, I went ahead and fixed you a bowl without asking if you're staying.”

Daryl shrugged. “Ain't got nowhere else... I wanna be.”

Paul looked up at him and stared a moment. “... Oh... well... have a seat, then.” He grabbed them both some water to drink before sitting down. 

The hunter hesitated for only a moment before sitting down. “... Thanks.”

Jesus merely smiled. “It's nothing... I'm merely making up for the many times you fed me.”

They ate in silence for a moment before Daryl finally got the courage to ask Jesus what the hell was wrong with him. 

“Paul...”

Paul looked up, surprised Daryl was actually initiating conversation. “Yes, Daryl?”

“... Back at the creek... ya was so calm at the thought of turnin...”

The scout looked down at his bowl. “Daryl...”

“What was goin through yer mind? D'ya wanna die?” Daryl glared at him from across the table. “I know life sucks now, but is it so terrible that ya can't stand livin anymore?!”

Paul huffed in irritation. “Not that it's any of your business, but yes!” The scout crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

Daryl growled and stood, slamming his hands on the table, making Jesus jump in shock. “Bull shit! What? Jus cause ya ain't got anyone ta fuck 'r share yer bed wit, yer miserable?!”

Paul tensed and stood as well. “Fuck off, Daryl! My sex life is none of your business! I'm tired, Daryl! Tired of everyone relying on me to solve every little problem they have! Tired of being alone!”

“Ya think I ain't tired?!” Daryl shoved his chair away so he could pace. “We're all tired, Paul! We been tired since the beginnin! But we go on! We live, we survive, because we're together!”

The words seemed foreign coming out of the grumpy redneck's usually sassy lips. They stunned Paul into silence. He watched the irritated hunter pace before speaking up. “... I don't have family, Daryl... not like you and Maggie... I don't have anyone worth living for.”

Daryl stopped and slowly turned to face Jesus. The hurt was evident on his face and Paul felt his chest tighten. “... I ain't family to you?” He asked softly. Paul's lips parted in shock. “... I ain't worth livin for?”

“Daryl...” Suddenly, everything about Daryl made sense to Paul. 

How he seemed to invite Paul to stay with him before anyone else could offer, catching squirrels or a deer just so he could cook for him, inviting him out on runs with just the two of them, seeking Paul out anytime the communities visited each other... Daryl was in love with him. Jesus blushed and swallowed the lump in his throat. He was seeing Daryl differently. He'd always noticed the unconventional beauty of the hunter; but, now he was seeing all the little things about him. 

Daryl was relaxed around Paul, but tense around anyone else. He shied away from everyone's eyes, but seemed to always search out Paul's gaze. If anyone that wasn't family tried to touch him, he growled and shrugged them off. He tensed when Paul touched him, but it wasn't out of fear or anger. He even occasionally leaned into the touch. Once someone from the Kingdom flirted with Daryl and he'd scowled at her and stormed off. Paul flirts with him all the time, and Daryl will sass right back at him, or blush and scowl. 

Paul was so lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice Daryl storm out until the trailer door slammed shut. He jumped and hurried over, pushing it open just in time to see Daryl demand the gates be opened. “Daryl!” Paul rushed down the steps and started running to the gates. They were opened barely enough for the hunter to escape through before the scout could catch up to him. “Shit!” The sound of the hunter's bike could be heard from the other side of the wooden fence. It made the scout feel better that he wasn't walking, but the bike wasn't exactly in the best condition. He hoped the hunter was just going back to Alexandria.

 

Rick was on shift when the bike pulled up to the gate. He frowned. Daryl wasn't supposed to be back until the morning. Still, the leader motioned for Carl to open the gate. He climbed down from the tower as Daryl pulled in, and rode right past them. 

“Da-” Rick hadn't even spoken the hunter's name before Daryl was out of ear shot. “... Talk in the morning, I guess...” 

Carl chuckled next to him. “Tara should be showing up for her shift soon, you should probably go talk to him.”

Rick nodded, fidgeting nervously. He didn't like his brother seeming so upset. He climbed back up to the tower... and paced for the next thirty minutes. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when Tara finally climbed up, coffee cup in one hand. Rick nearly shoved the rifle into her free hand before climbing down and nearly running down the street to Daryl's house. The door was open ajar, suggesting it had been slammed and merely bounced back open instead of latching shut. He pushed it open gently and then shut it quietly, listening for any sounds of the hunter in the small house. 

Daryl's crossbow and boots were laying haphazardly by the dining room table, along with his vest and knife. The house wasn't exactly a mess. Daryl had been keeping it clean ever since Jesus had started staying with him during visits. Rick had noticed something between them, but hadn't wanted to offend of embarrass the hunter, so he'd kept his thoughts to himself until the other day. He hoped his hadn't given bad advice. 

He heard a sound come from the hallway and moved forward the investigate. Daryl's bedroom door was open, his clothes discarded by the bed. On the bed, under a thick blanket, was Daryl... or at least a lump shaped like Daryl. Rick stepped into the room and inched closer to the bed. 

“Daryl..?”

“Fuck off...”

Yeah, something had definitely upset his brother. “Daryl, what happened?”

“I followed yer stupid advice 'n hinted mah feelings, fucker merely stared at me with this blank ass look on his face.” Daryl grumbled, burying his head further under his pillow. “Fucker jus wants ta die...”

Rick reached up to rub the back of his neck. “... Did you even give him a chance to... y'know... actually reject you?”

“... Ain't strong enough ta hear it, Rick...”

Rick sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Daryl... then how do you know he just wasn't stunned into silence? Maybe he was so happy, he couldn't form any words.”

“Fucker talks all the damn time... words ain't hard fer 'im.” 

The Alexandria leader chuckled. “That's true... but... this is love, Daryl... love makes people do stupid things and lose all proper ways of thinking and speaking. I bet Paul is already trying to find a way to get here and talk to you.”

Daryl grunted and burrowed further into his blanket. He'd never be able to face Paul ever again. The look on Paul's face told him everything he needed to know. Paul now knew that Daryl was in love with him, that Daryl has been crushing on him and pining for him since the beginning like some creepy asshole. With a heavy, weary sigh, he closed his eyes and fell asleep. 

 

Like Rick had said, Paul had done everything he could to get to Alexandria. He took a team to get to the Buick and transfer the supplies from the broken down car to the truck they'd gotten fixed up. Then he'd separated them with Maggie's help and packed all Alexandria's half up and put it back into the truck. Then, just as he was about to head out, he'd been approached by Carson to check on the wound in his neck. After that, Alex came up to him and asked him to help move some things around in Barrington house for the new infirmary. By the time he'd reached Alexandria, it was nearing evening. 

The gate opened for him and he pulled the truck through. Rick walked up to him as he got out and they shook hands. Paul explained to him about the supplies and the incident with the Buick, as well as their run in with the walkers. He showed Rick his already healing wound on his neck. Rick expressed his concern and gratitude that they were both uninjured for the most part. 

“Is... is Daryl here? He's not out hunting is he?”

Rick shook his head. “He showed up early this morning and hasn't left his house since. He was quite upset.” The leader shot Paul a look, dangerous and threatening. “I'd almost say he's... heartbroken.”

Paul swallowed the lump in his throat. “It's a misunderstanding, Rick... I promise. I'm here to straightening it out.” 

“I hope you do... you're family now, Jesus, I'd hate for something bad to happen to you.” Rick patted Jesus on the shoulder before walking off to help unload the truck. 

Paul took that as his cue to leave and go talk to the grouchy hunter. He hurried down the street to the dark blue house on the corner. He rushed up the steps, nearly tripping in his rush to reach the door. He paused in front of the door to gather his wits, cracking his knuckles nervously before reaching up to knock. 

“The fuck d'ya want?”

The voice startled Jesus and he turned to find Daryl sitting on the swing, one foot up on the railing to push himself back and forth slowly. In his hand was Paul's hair tie with the dream catcher charm. Paul stared at him, chest tightening. Daryl's hair was a mess, like he hadn't bothered combing it at all that day. His eyes were rimmed red, as if he'd been crying; and, he seemed tired, like he'd been fighting the tears. 

“Daryl...” Paul breathed out the name softly. He approached cautiously. “You ran out last night... didn't give me a chance to-”

“Ta what? Tell me ya ain't interested? That I ain't enough ta keep ya from killin yerself?” Daryl glared at him, eyes shimmering with the threat of fresh tears. 

“No... Daryl...” Paul stopped by the swing. “Daryl... I thought you were the one uninterested. You always came off as... closed off... I've never seen you take interest in anyone.”

“Ya ever think maybe I's jus waitin fer the right one? Just cause I don't sleep around wit every Tom, Dick 'n Harry don't mean I don't experience lust 'r need.”

Paul glared, clenching his fists. “Alright, let's get one thing straight here, Daryl... I don't sleep around! Yes, I had a thing with Alex there for a while, but that was over way before I even met you! And after I met you, I never wanted anyone else!” Daryl looked up at him, eyes shining with tears, but starting to gleam with hope. “... Okay?” Paul softened his voice. He stepped closer. “Daryl... you're very attractive.” The hunter snorted and looked away. “No, you are. Not everyone can see it, but I do... I definitely saw it when I was laying on the ground, two guns pointed down at me.” 

Daryl glanced over at him. He stopped the swing, letting the scout sit next to him before resuming his slow back and forth motion. “... I saw it, too. Soon as ya lowered yer bandanna... I saw.”

Paul stared down at the hair tie in Daryl's hands. “... So... what do we do?”

The hunter blushed and shrugged nervously. 

“What do you want, Daryl? Do you want to continue as we are... partners on runs?”

“... Nah... want more than that.” Daryl whispered. 

The scout leaned closer, smiling so happily. “Yeah?” He laid his head on Daryl's shoulder. “Me too...” He reached his hand over, taking one of Daryl's hands into his. He laced their fingers together and closed his eyes as Daryl gripped his hand tightly. The back and forth motion of the swing was so comforting. Surrounded by Daryl's warmth and scent, he fell into an easy slumber.


End file.
